AN: I've reached the part in the story where, essentially, it becomes less about Superman and more about Jason and Kate and their relationship. There will be several chapters covering age 19 and 20, and then I'll be fully caught up to ItSomF. If you really don't like reading about original characters, then I'm afraid these next few chapters will not be to your liking. Supes is pretty much out of the picture until Jason makes that phone call to him in chapter two of ItSomF. But I've had so many of you say that you're looking forward to meeting Kate and watch the two of them fall in love that I'm not too worried. Based on your comments and reviews, that will tell me just how much of their relationship you want to see. Believe it or not, I've written the next two chapters already, so I will know how to tweak them according to the feedback I get. If too many of you would really rather I skip ahead and get to the Superman parts, I can do that. But if you want all the nitty gritty – if you want to watch them fall in love completely and be a fly on the way of their personal and intimate conversations, I can do that, too!

Many thanks to Hellish Red Devil and htbthomas for their support and attention to detail. You two constantly keep me on my toes! And this chapter was MAMOTH, so don't think I don't know how much I owe you for sifting through this one.

Age 19: Enter the Girl

There are certain events in life that get etched permanently into your memory. Things like where you were when JFK was shot or when you first heard a plane had crashed into the Twin Towers on 9/11. I wasn't alive for either of those events, but I do know what it is to be able to recall a moment with perfect clarity. I have a whole list of moments permanently fixed in my mind, and they all revolve around her.

The first time I saw her. The first time I heard her voice. The first time she smiled at me. The first time I heard her name. The first time I heard her say my name. The first time I touched her. The first thing I ever bought her. The first meal we ate together. The first time she kissed me. The first time I kissed her. The first argument we had. The first time she said she loved me. The first time we made up. The first time I said I loved her. The first time she fell asleep in my arms. The first time we made love. And they happened in that order.

It was right after my sophomore year started. Monday night – pizza night – that's when I first saw her. My friends and I always went to the local pizza place for their Monday specials and live music. Lance hooked me up with this very nice, very pretty girl who was rooming with his girlfriend. Melissa. She was undecided about her major, undecided about what she wanted to do in life, and I was undecided if I really was interested in her or not. Lance warned me before we went out about being a "one date only" kind of guy. I told him it wasn't my fault that he always set me up with "one date only" kind of girls.

We ordered our pizzas and were just starting to get into a conversation about the differences between being a freshman and being a sophomore when the door chimed on the restaurant and in walked a group of three girls. We all instinctively looked over at them as they came in, and then went right back to the conversation.

But I did a double take.

I don't know why it happened. I can't explain why I noticed her like that. Can anyone ever explain that kind of thing? But something in her face, in her movements, caught my attention and I couldn't look away. She sat down at a booth in the window with her friends. The sunlight danced over her smooth, blonde hair, making it shine. Her eyes twinkled, and from this distance I wasn't sure if they were green or hazel. I squinted. They were green - like a forest green. Her face was bright and full of joy. She looked so happy, so… free-spirited. My heart fluttered, and I'm sure I had a stupid look on my face. Then she laughed. I tuned my ears in to her conversation and heard her voice for the first time.

"I told her she was crazy!" she said, shaking her head. Her voice was light, and there was a slight accent.

"Girl, you have no idea," her friend said. "I've tried for years to get her to realize that boy is a fruitcake."

"There's no accounting for what some people find attractive," the third girl said.

She nodded in agreement. "Ugh, don't I know it. I always end up with the wrong guy."

"Hey, none of that," the first friend said.

The second friend agreed. "Yeah, you're here to forget about him."

Him? Him who? I didn't like him, whoever he was.

"Jason?"

I spun around to find Melissa grinning up at me. "You wanna refill?" She held up her cup to me, showing me it was empty.

I looked at her face. As pretty as it was, I didn't see the same joy in Melissa's face that I did the girl in the booth. Melissa was a blonde, too, I noticed. Darker blonde, but certainly blonde. It spoke volumes to me that it wasn't until this moment I'd even realized what color hair she had. And her eyes were green, too, but they were that fake green indicative of colored contacts. As I looked at Melissa, I realized that my feelings for her were indifferent. I didn't like or dislike her. And I could recognize that she was pretty. She just wasn't… her.

"I'll get it," I said, taking the glass from Melissa and walking over to the soda machine. My back was now to the table with the three girls. I reached out with my hearing to listen in on them again.

"'Scuse me!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, for there, right beside me, was the lovely blonde from the booth. "I just need a straw." She reached in front of me, not touching me, and grabbed a straw from the dispenser. She smiled up at me, a genuine smile that I hoped would be the first of many, and I immediately felt weak in the knees. And then she was gone. I watched her retreat back to her table, walking lightly, her long hair bouncing against her back. She was gorgeous, and I was smitten.

I scolded myself later for being so rude to Melissa. It wasn't her fault that the pretty blonde in the booth was more interesting than she was. I didn't know anything about that other girl, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about her. I thought about her all night long – all week long, actually. It was frustrating me that I hadn't asked her what her name was. Melissa had talked, about nothing, might I add, all through my chance to listen in on her conversation and possibly learn her name. I'd missed out that first time, but thankfully fate dealt me a second hand.

We ended up at the same party on Friday night. I didn't know she was going to be there, but I couldn't help following her with my eyes once I spotted her. She was with the same two girl friends that were with her at the pizza place, except that this time there were three guys with them as well. The one that had his paws on her looked like a real ignorant fool to me. Oh, sure, he paid attention to her. He also paid attention to about five other girls that night as well. He touched her hair, her arms--I even caught him putting a hand on her breast at one point, which she did not like one bit. I didn't like it either.

"Stop it," she said, swatting his hand away.

"I just wanna little fun, baby. Don't you like to have fun?" His hand found its way back up to her breast.

"I said, stop it!"

Instinctively, I grabbed the guy by his forearm, probably a little tighter than I should have and yanked him around to face me. "The lady said to stop it!" I said through my teeth.

"What's it to you?"

My eyes narrowed and I squeezed his arm.

"OW! Okay – okay."

"You're done here," I ordered, holding on to him tightly for a moment longer before I let him go.

He rubbed his arm, looked over at her and sniggered. "Barbie's not my type, anyway."

I turned my attention back to her. "Are you okay?"

She gaped at me, her eyes drilling into mine with an amazed intensity. "I'm fine. Thanks for that."

"No problem," I mumbled before stupidly darting off to hide from her wide, soul-searching eyes.

I should have stayed there and talked to her. I know that. I should have taken the opportunity to introduce myself to her, but I could tell from the way she looked at me that she was already thinking about what I did and how I was able to do it. I didn't want to open myself up to her questions. Not about that.

A few minutes later, I noticed she was sitting with her friends on the patio.

"It's really not a problem. He wasn't my type, anyway," she said with a smile.

"And what is your type, then?"

My ears perked up right away.

"Someone not interested in me for just the sex," was the curt answer.

I didn't like the sound of that. Had someone other than the current jerk at the party done something to her? My blood boiled at the thought.

Her friends laughed. "Good luck on that one, Kate!"

Kate. Her name was Kate. The prettiest Kate in Christendom.

Petruchio was right. She was beautiful.

Just then, her eyes met mine and my body froze. She tilted her head to the side and looked at me – really looked at me – noticing me as I stared back at her. She smiled, and I blushed and darted into the kitchen, my heart racing.

"Hey, do you know that guy?" I heard her ask her friends. With a squint of my eyes, I watched her through the wall. She was pointing in the direction of where I had vanished.

"What guy?"

"Tall, dark hair. He was at the pizza place on Monday."

She remembered me. My mind went a bit fuzzy.

"Dreamy blue eyes? Really good-looking?" asked one of the friends.

"Yeah…" she said, drawing it out.

"Jason White," the two girls said in unison.

"He plays the piano."

"He plays hard to get."

"He went out with this girl that lived next to us last year. She said the date was good, he was really nice, and then nothing."

"He never called her back."

"But he saw her later and was really nice to her."

"He's always nice."

"He's roommates with Lance Harper. He plays soccer."

"They are both really cute."

"But Lance has a girlfriend."

"Yeah. So… you know."

The rapid fire of information about my life ended. Kate frowned a little, and I frowned right along with her.

"Jason White…" she mumbled, as if she were testing it out to see how it felt on her lips. I shivered from the way she said it.

"Why did you want to know about him?" the first friend asked.

"'Cause he's been watching me all night."

"Jase?"

I jumped, completely startled by both the fact that Kate was on to me and that Lance had snuck up on me.

"What are you doing?"

I realized that to him, or to anyone else who took notice, it seemed as if I were far too interested in the canisters sitting on the counter top, for that's where my gaze had been focused.

"Oh, um… they really need to clean their kitchen," I said, badly trying to lie my way out of the situation. He never lies…or at least not well!

Before I knew it, Kate and her friends had left the party, and I had missed my second chance to talk to her. Instead, I'd left it up to her friends to gossip about me like I was some gigolo out to use girls. I hadn't expected her friends to know so much about me, let alone tell her I was hard to get. I wasn't. I just turned into a total idiot around girls – especially ones that I liked. It had taken me how many years to form a coherent sentence around Meredith. No wonder I was incapable of talking to Kate. I'd only seen her twice now. At this rate, I would be in my mid-twenties before I'd be able to say hello to her without falling over.

But fate or destiny or whatever you want to believe in had other plans for me. I had never really believed in that kind of thing before I met Kate. And on Monday, when I didn't see Kate at the pizza place, I figured my chances had run out. But on Tuesday, as I rounded the math building, heading for my piano lesson, I ran right into Kate. Literally.

We collided with enough force to knock all the papers out of her hands and send them scattering all over the ground.

"Damn," she mumbled, dropping to her knees quickly and not even looking at me.

But I looked at her. I was stunned. I'd plowed right into her and she didn't seem hurt at all.

"Here, let me help you," I offered, bending down to help gather up the pages.

"Thanks, but they are all such a mess now that I—"

Her eyes met mine.

"You?" she said in a mix of astonishment and puzzlement.

"What?"

"You're… that guy."

I blinked.

"The one from the party – that was staring at me. The one that…"

"That…?"

Her eyes darted to the ground as she grabbed up a handful of pages. "Never mind."

"Here you go." I handed her the stack of pages I had managed to collect.

"Thanks," she smiled, reaching out to take them from me. Our fingertips brushed, letting me touch her skin for the first time, making me shiver slightly.

She went to stand and instantly I reached out to help her up, my hand clasping hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand felt good in mine. Almost too good. Soft and warm. I realized I'd held it a little longer than I should have.

"Sorry," I said, pulling my hand away from hers abruptly.

"It's okay."

"I wasn't um… wasn't w-watching where I was going."

"No, I should have been more careful."

"Are you okay?" I would never forgive myself if I hurt her.

"I think the only thing wounded is my pride," she teased.

"Wh – why do you s-say that?" I was tripping over my words now. Great. Real smooth. Clobber her and then stutter at her.

"It's not every day you show how big of a klutz you are in front of a—" Her eyes wouldn't meet mine as she blushed pink. "Never mind."

"Are – um – are you – um…um…" I wanted to punch myself, I felt so stupid! "I'm Jason," I snapped quickly.

"I know," she smiled, looking at me from beneath her long lashes the way girls do. "I'm Kate."

My heart pounded hard against my chest. "I know."

She wet her lips, and then bit them nervously. Good Lord, did she have any idea how tempting it was to watch her do that? Her mouth was just perfection. It probably felt just as perfect as it looked.

"I have to get to class," she said after a long pause.

I snapped out of my little daydream. "Yeah – um – sorry."

"Okay?"

No, it wasn't okay. She was going to walk away. I was going to let her get away from me for a third time! I needed to say something now or the moment would be gone forever. But all I could say was…

"Okay."

"Well… bye."

"Bye."

She walked around me, glancing back at me as she headed down the street.

Damn it! How moronic could I be?! She'd noticed me. She'd blushed when I looked at her. She had even done that girly eye flirt thing that girls do! And what had I said to her, other than 'um'? Nothing! Not a damn thing. No wonder she had walked away. I growled at myself and flopped down on a nearby bench, pounding my hands on my head.

"What is your problem?" I asked myself. "This is not that difficult. Just talk to her! Would you like to have dinner sometime? See, the words come out just fine now. What's your phone number? You didn't even get her phone number!"

"644 – 9711."

My head snapped up to find her smiling down at me. I leapt to my feet in total surprise.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound cool about the fact that she'd just heard me talking to myself.

"I didn't get your phone number either, so don't beat yourself up about being stupid," she grinned.

I blinked. She wanted my phone number? "Um… it's 642 – 3537."

She scribbled it down on some paper and then handed me a bit she had torn off. "Here. This is me."

I took it from her, my eyes never leaving her face. Gathering up my courage, I blurted out, "Do you wanna go to dinner with me?"

She laughed. "I hardly know you. And you probably know even less about me."

"Well, isn't that why people go out… for dinner, I mean?"

She laughed again. "I don't know. Are you always this jittery?"

I sighed and resorted to admitting the truth. "No. Only when trying to talk to a beautiful girl."

She blushed again, and pursed her lips. "Okay, I'll have dinner with you, but only on the condition that you actually talk to me instead of just staring."

I pulled my gaze away, suddenly aware that I had been staring the whole time. "Sorry."

The old campus bell tower sounded the hour.

"I have to get to class. Call me, okay?"

"Okay."

And then she was gone again.

I didn't get much sleep that night. My thoughts were too busy thinking about her. Should I have called her that evening? Would that look too desperate? What would I say when I talked to her? She was right that I didn't know anything about her. Why was I so drawn to her, then? She could be a dingbat airhead for all I knew. But I couldn't deny the way I felt when she smiled at me. I wanted to make her smile more often.

Being groggy and tired, it didn't help matters that it rained the next day. No sun meant that I'd have to jumpstart my body the human way. Coffee. I stopped in the village on my way to class and ordered a tall espresso only to be startled by a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey you," she said with a smile.

"Kate!" I nearly spilled my coffee I jumped so.

"You didn't call me." She was still smiling, so I didn't think she was angry.

I wiped away the few drops of liquid that had splashed over the side. "Um… no. No, I didn't. And I um… I have a g-good reason for that, too."

"You do? Well, then you can sit down and tell me about it." She nodded over to her table in the corner. "Unless you're in a hurry?"

My mind completely forgot about anything I had to do – ever. "No. No. I have a few minutes," I said, taking a seat across from her and slipping out of my wet jacket.

"So…" she extended the vowel sound. "Your good reason?"

"Oh. Um. Um. I wanted to call. I just um…"

She pursed her lips again and leaned forward. "I have to wonder about you. I mean, you stared at me at the pizza place. You stared at me through the party. And yet you don't take the initiative to talk to me? Or even call me once you have my number?"

"Well, see…"

"Do you even really… I mean, are you even interested in me?"

"Are you kidding?" I gaped.

"No. Because if you aren't, then let me know so I can—"

"I didn't want to look desperate," I blurted out. "I thought if I called you right away you'd think I was desperate."

She eyed me. "Are you desperate?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Desperate to get over my nerves so I can talk to you without sounding like an idiot and tell you how very much I want to get to know you better."

She relaxed in her seat. "Well, what was wrong with that?"

A smile tugged at my lips. "Nothing. But I'm still nervous."

She chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of me."

"Okay. I won't tell you that then."

"After what you did at the party? How can you be afraid of me?"

I crossed my arms in front of me, feeling suddenly exposed. "I just didn't want him to hurt you."

"Well, I really appreciated it. I hate guys like that – all grabby and feeling like they have the right to touch you just because you agreed to go on a date with them."

"I'll keep that in mind," I nodded.

She gasped. "Oh! I didn't mean… I wasn't talking about you."

"How do you know? I could be just like that."

She shook her head. "But you're not. Your eyes are too gentle."

My gaze locked with hers at that moment and held fast. I heard her heart rate increase, saw the blush rise to her cheeks.

The blasted tower clock chimed, pulling me away from her yet again. "I have to get to class," I said regrettably. "Can I walk you somewhere?"

"I don't have class for another hour. I was just going to sit here where it's dry and sip my coffee." She lifted her cup to me. "I'll have to get another one soon."

"Okay." I stood up and started for the door, only to turn back around and head up to the counter. I made my purchase and took it over to Kate.

"What's this?"

"It's a miniature spy cam disguised as a coffee mug," I teased.

She looked up at me as if I were insane.

"Nah, see, you can refill the mugs for a dollar any time you want. It has to be one of the house brands though."

A bright, wide smile spread across her face, reaching all the way to her eyes. "Thanks! That's very sweet of you."

"It's just a coffee mug," I shrugged.

She batted her eyes at me. "That's twice you've come to my rescue."

I grinned. "I'll call you. I promise."

"You had better!"

I walked out into the rain feeling a bit lightheaded from all her beautiful smiles. A glance back at her told me she was on her cell phone. I reached out with my senses and picked up on her conversation.

"I'm not kidding. I didn't even ask him to do it. He just bought it."

"Awww," the voice on the phone said. "That's really sweet of him!"

"You know, I knew moving to Metropolis meant having to deal with Superman all the time, but I wasn't expecting this."

I froze, my heart skipping a few beats. Superman? How did she know?

"Oh, Kate, come on. This has nothing to do with Superman. Jason is just a nice guy. You really need to get over the whole Superman thing. You won't make any friends with that attitude."

What Superman thing?

"I've made one friend. At least, I hope so." Kate played with the mug I gave her.

The voice laughed. "You do not want him as a friend. You want him as something else and you know it."

Her mouth opened in mock horror. "Danielle, I am appalled that you would even suggest such a thing!"

The girls broke out into laughter. If I didn't go now I would miss my class. I wanted to stay and find out about this "Superman thing," but I'd had too much trouble last semester thanks to my little kryptonite stunt that I didn't dare skip classes this semester. I made it my goal to find out about the "Superman thing" as soon as possible.

We talked on the phone on Wednesday. I called to set up the date for Friday, which she agreed to, but then the conversation kept going. And going. After about twenty minutes, she asked me to meet her somewhere. Naturally, I agreed and we returned to the site of our first encounter: Mario's Pizzeria.

Over a slice of veggie lovers, I asked her what her major was.

"If I tell you, will you promise to not run away from me screaming?"

That got me worried. "Okay."

"Psychology."

"As in… you're going to be a psychiatrist?"

"Psychologist, actually," she corrected. "Focusing mainly on family issues."

"Why would that make me run screaming?"

"Most guys are intimidated by 'the head shrinker.'" She dropped her voice about an octave when she said it. "So I've come to avoid the topic of my major until after the first date."

"So I'm ahead of schedule, then."

"No," she disagreed. "The coffee shop. That was kind of like a date."

"No," I countered. "That was… luck. And you must have a really low opinion of me if you think I'd take a girl to a coffee shop in the rain for a first date."

"Actually, I have a very high opinion of you."

I didn't know what to say to that. It left me a bit flustered.

"What about you?" she asked.

I was confused, my brain still working on the fact that she had a high opinion of me. "What about me?"

"I was told that you play the piano."

"I do."

"Are you a music major?"

"I am. Piano performance, actually."

"Oh."

"What's that mean?"

"Just… that's… you know."

Yeah, I did know. "You think a guy who is a piano performance major probably 'plays for the other team.'"

She laughed.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "I assure you, that is not the case."

"I didn't think it was," she said, but her smile gave her away.

"Yes, you did, even if it was for just one brief moment, you did think it. Everyone does. I'm kind of used to it."

"Sorry," she said in a delightful little voice.

"Don't be. It's true that there are a lot of guys like that in the department – not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just not me. And you know, as much teasing as I've had about it over the years, I always like to point out that there are a lot of really great girls in the music department, and most of the guys aren't interested in them. So a guy like me…"

"A guy like you, who's handsome and straight, becomes a chick magnet," she concluded.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't like that, but my brain got hung up on the fact that she'd just said I was handsome.

"So you went into music to pick up girls?" she asked.

"No, I went into music because I love it and I'm good at it."

She eyed me skeptically. "You're good? How good?"

I knew my limits musically. I knew who was the best in the school and I wasn't it. But I wasn't the worst either. "I'm better than average," I said.

"Will you play for me?"

"Sure."

"Friday?"

"No, that's a first date. I've never played for a girl on the first date."

She gasped. "It won't be a first date! What do you call this?"

"This is um…" I searched for the right word. "This is hooking up at the last minute. No planning – no effort. That's not a date."

"Well, I think of it as a date."

"Okay, so Friday will only be a second date then."

"Let me guess, you don't play for a girl on the second date, either?"

"I would, but you risk swooning all over me from the passion of my music," I kidded her, surprising myself in the process. It wasn't like me to feel so comfortable so quickly around a girl. I felt like I could almost tell her anything. Almost.

She laughed. Her laugh was delightful – infectious. I wanted to hear more of it.

"So, what about you?" I asked.

"I told you. I'm a psych major."

"I know that, but why? Why did you want to go into psychology?"

"Um…" she hesitated, her eyes unwilling to meet mine for some reason.

"What?"

"I don't want to spoil the mood."

"What do you mean?"

"I just…" She shrugged. "I have family issues."

I snorted. "Who doesn't?"

"True, but mine were really bad."

"So are mine," I said without thinking.

"Did your mom die when you were six?"

The abruptness of the comment left me a bit stunned. "No."

"Mine did. In a fire. My baby sister died, too."

I had nothing to offer her but a very weak, "Sorry."

"I didn't mean to say that so harshly," she said gently. "I don't normally talk about it – especially to someone I don't know very well. But I feel like…"

"Like you could tell me anything?" I finished for her.

"Yeah. It's strange."

I leaned forward. "Well, if you want to tell me, I have pretty good ears. And I'm also very well-practiced in the art of keeping secrets."

She exhaled slowly. "It was devastating. My dad got remarried awhile later, which I resented. Pam." She made a face that reflected her feelings. "When they had kids, I felt like he'd gone off and started a new family without me. It was awful there for a while. I had never really dealt with my mom's death, so I couldn't move on very well. My family went to a psychologist, and we worked through some things. She was amazing. She gave me my Dad back. Made me realize that even though he had other children and another wife, that didn't mean he didn't love my mom or that he didn't still love me. She kind of became my role model. I decided that I wanted to be like her – I wanted to help people work through the problems in their families – try to stop so many families from falling apart."

My God. Could this woman be any more remarkable than she already was?

"That's a very noble ambition," I said quietly. "I just want to play piano."

Kate smiled brightly. "That's noble."

"It is?"

"Sure. You want to fill the world with beautiful music. The arts are so important to society. They inspire us and make us feel. It's an external expression of emotion, and we need that. You're just contributing to it."

I started at her for a moment, completely amazed by her astuteness.

"Unless you really are just in it to pick up chicks," she added with a shrug.

I laughed. "Now why would I need that? All I needed to do was plow into someone and buy her a coffee cup."

Her cheeks turned pink. "Ha. Very funny."

"Well, I thought so."

I walked her back to her apartment, which wasn't far from The Village. I had been calm and collected around her all evening, but the nerves that normally persisted in making me feel like an idiot came on full force once we arrived at her door. She looked up at me from under those long lashes, and I felt dizzy.

"So, this is me."

"Yup."

"I had a nice time."

"Me, too."

"I'm glad you finally decided to call me."

"Me, too."

"Will you call me again?"

"Sure."

"And I'll see you on Friday?"

"Absolutely."

"Are we back to one-word responses?"

"Oh… I… just…"

My heart was hammering in my chest. I wanted to kiss her, but it was so soon. Her heart was pounding just as fast, if not faster than mine. Did that mean she wanted me to kiss her? Her face was very close. I could smell her shampoo.

I had to say something. "I – I just wanted you to know—"

But my words were lost as she pressed her mouth to mine, gently, sweetly, innocently. Her lips were softer than I'd imagined, and the kiss was over far too fast for my liking, but when she pulled away, I didn't protest. She had kissed me. She had kissed me, and that was enough for now.

"Good night, Jason," she sighed and then turned to go into her apartment.

"Good night, Kate."

She offered me one last charming smile before closing the door all the way. From the other side I could hear the girls' voices bombarding her with questions.

"What was he like?"

"Are you going out again?"

"Did he pay for the food?"

"Did he say he liked you?"

"Did he kiss you?"

"Why didn't you invite him in?"

"Guys! Please!" Kate said, and I squinted so that I could see her. "It was… nice. He's very sweet and…"

"And?"

"And yes, we're going out again."

"Really?!" The two girls said in unison.

"You're kidding!"

"He never goes out with anyone twice."

"Well," Kate said, turning bright red, "we're going out on Friday."

"Did he kiss you?"

She giggled and began to unbutton her blouse. As tempting as it was to watch, as much as I wanted to hear her reply, I knew better than that. Kate deserved better than a peeping Tom, and I would try very hard to be better for her. I averted my eyes and went back to my own apartment where I slept very soundly, dreaming of her.

I took the initiative and called her again on Thursday. Our schedules were such that getting together really was a problem with my rehearsal and her lab meeting that night, but we still ended up talking right up until the very moment she realized she was going to be late for class. It really was amazing how easy she was to talk to. I found myself wanting to reveal things to her that I knew I shouldn't. After all, there was still the mystery of the "Superman thing" that I had to get to the bottom of before I could even consider telling her the truth.

By the time our date on Friday rolled around I had worked myself into a total dither about her. She was all I had thought about for days now. I thought about her when I bought a cup of coffee Friday morning. I thought about her when I passed the psych building on campus. I thought about her when I practiced my piano. I even did something I hadn't done in a long time – I fiddled around with a piece of music I had in my head – a melody that reminded me of her. I wasn't much of a songwriter, but sometimes there just wasn't any other way to express what I was feeling. What had Kate called it? An external expression of emotion.

When I picked her up at her apartment that evening, I found myself right back where I started, nearly unable to talk to her. She was so beautiful in her flowing skirt and formfitting top. Did she have any idea how perfectly that top fit her? Hugging her curves in just the right way. Revealing just enough skin to taunt me but not enough to be indecent.

Somehow I made it through dinner without sounding like too much of a fool. I made her laugh several times, and I hoped she was laughing with me and not at me. We talked about her home back in Virginia and how much she tried to not have an accent. I loved her slight accent. She missed the green, open, free feeling of her home, but she loved the constant activity of the city, too. And she missed her siblings. She had a half-brother and sister from her dad's second marriage. I smiled shyly and told her I was an only child.

"What else do you have planned?" she asked on our way out of the restaurant.

"Movie?" I shrugged.

She smirked at me. "Come on, you have to have something more original planned."

"Well, the orchestra is rehearsing for their Labor Day recital. It's all patriotic music, if you like that kind of thing."

"I do!" she beamed. "Are we allowed to go listen?"

"If you want."

I don't know what made me do it, but I felt the impulse to take her hand. I just wrapped my fingers around hers and held on tightly, hoping my hand wasn't too sweaty from my nerves. She blushed and hid her eyes from me for a moment before looking up at me in that oh-so-sweet way she did.

We headed across the street and down the walk, coming upon a crowd of people gathered in the commons for some unknown reason. Flashing red and blue lights alerted us that the police were there. And then came the unmistakable flash of red and blue fabric that signaled the arrival of…

"Superman!" someone exclaimed.

"Superman. Thank God," another voice said, relieved.

I glanced over the heads of the crowd to see that there had been a car accident and someone was trapped in one of the vehicles. Before anyone asked him to, he carefully righted the car, pulled the door off, and reached in to check on the passenger.

"Are you okay?" I heard him say.

I clenched my fists in irritation and realized for the first time that Kate's hand was no longer attached to mine. I looked to my right, then to my left, but she wasn't there. I turned around and found her down the street a ways, grumbling something to herself.

"You knew he would be here, Kate. Just get over it. This is where he lives."

Who was she talking about? She sounded so upset. Was it…Superman that had upset her? I approached her hesitantly. "Kate? What's wrong?"

She huffed and turned to face me. "I'm sorry, Jason."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I just wondered why you walked away."

She looked very nervous, more nervous than I had ever seen her before. "I knew that this would come up sooner or later, I was just hoping it would be later than this. I mean, I like you so much, and I know once you find out you'll tell me I'm crazy. Everyone thinks I'm crazy."

"I don't understand," I said, confused.

"Superman," she mumbled under her breath.

I tensed up. "What about him?"

She closed her eyes. "Oh, what the hey." She opened her eyes and looked directly at me, making me very worried. "I think he's a jerk."

I blinked, stunned by her statement, for that had been the last thing I was expecting her to say. I wet my lips and said, "I beg your pardon?"

She shook her head, her long hair dancing down her back. "You don't believe me. You think I'm crazy. I mean, what person in their right mind thinks Superman is a jerk? I mean, he's Superman. He's the hero to end all heroes, right? He does all kinds of good things day in and day out. But see, here's the thing, Jason – how does he decide who he's going to help and who he won't ? Who gave him the right to even make that kind of decision? There are people in danger all over the world. Why did he decide to help that person in the car right now? Why not save someone falling off a cliff? Why not save someone who might be drowning? Why that person?"

I didn't have a good answer. "I don't know."

"I don't know either. And here's another thing – why is it that we put so much trust and faith in him, anyway? He is an alien, right?"

My heart fluttered. "Right."

"How many horror stories have we been told about aliens coming down and taking over? But the aliens are usually green and scaly with tentacles and six eyes. We only trust him because he's good-looking. If he looked like an alien out of some science fiction movie, even if he still did nice things, I have to wonder if we'd trust him as much. But give him a great body and a tight-fitting suit and the ladies are ready to swoon."

She had a point there, as much as it stung me to consider. "So, you don't like Superman?"

"No, I don't. You can think I'm crazy if you want, but it won't change how I feel about him. There's too much history there."

"History?"

"My – my mom. She – when she died. See, what you have to understand is that my mom was a huge Superman fan. She clipped every article or magazine picture she could find. She kept a scrapbook even. And she didn't buy into the theory that he left us on purpose. So when he came back, she felt so relieved that she was right – that he left to go home and see what was there. So once he came back, she told me that if ever I was in trouble – and it had to be real trouble, because Superman is a busy man; we shouldn't just ask for help if our cat is stuck up a tree-- but that if ever I was in real trouble, that I should call for him as loudly as I could and that he would come and help me, because that's what Superman does."

I took a step closer to her even though I suddenly felt very chilled. "You called for him to save your mom and he didn't come," I assumed, putting the pieces together.

She nodded in the affirmative. "I yelled myself hoarse and he never showed up. Not even afterwards. And then, a day or so later, we were at my aunt's house and I saw on the news that Superman had been in Centennial Park having a statue dedicated to him while my mom was dying. A statue, Jason! A statue celebrating his good deeds. Now tell me, what right did he have to ignore me that day? Had he been saving someone else, I could understand. But that – that makes no sense to me."

It didn't make sense to me either, and I remembered that day. Mom was covering the celebration and I had begged her to go along. It was just after he had returned and he had dealt with all the mess left behind from New Krypton. I remembered being so proud that I had been a part of it, and how excited I was that he was my friend. Oh, the foolishness of youth.

Kate huffed. "So, that's my horrible secret. I think Superman is a jerk. I'm the only one on this whole planet who doesn't worship him – who feels this way about him, but that's just how it is. If you'd had my experience with him, you might feel the same way."

"Kate—"

"If you don't want to see me anymore—"

"Why would I not want to see you anymore?"

"Because," she said pointedly, "you're from Metropolis. Superman is your idol."

I took a step closer. "No, he's not."

"Oh, you can be nice about it. Most people usually are at first. They say I'm entitled to my opinion, but a few days later they will try to convince me otherwise."

"I won't do that," I said, taking her hands in mine.

She looked up at me skeptically. "You swear you won't tell me I'm crazy?"

I laughed. "I won't tell you that because I don't think you are."

"Even though I think the world's biggest hero is nothing but a zero?"

"Yup. Because I feel the same way."

She jumped. "You do?"

I smiled. "Yes, I do. In fact, I would be willing to bet that I think he's more of a jerk than you do."

She still didn't believe me. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"Nope."

"Why don't you like him? What did he do to you?"

How to explain this? I'd never tried to explain it to anyone before, always insisting on changing the topic whenever Superman was discussed. But I had a pretty good idea the direction I could take and not give myself completely away.

"Do you know who Lois Lane is?" I asked.

"Of course. My mother's favorite article was 'I spent the night with Superman,' and she hated the one about why the world doesn't need him. How could I not know who Lois Lane is?"

I grimaced and braced myself for the blow. "That's… she's… my mom."

Kate cocked an eyebrow at me. "Your mom?"

"Yeah."

"Lois Lane is your mother?" she repeated for clarity.

"Yes."

"Oh, my goodness," she said under her breath.

I wet my lips and pressed forward, not knowing if I was judging her reaction correctly or not. "I've been bombarded and surrounded with information and stories about Superman my entire life. Some of them good… some of them bad… and Kate—"

"Have you met him?" she interrupted.

"Several times," I said honestly.

"What's he like?"

"He's…" I considered the many options for how to answer that question. He's insensitive. He thinks he's superior to everyone. He's a liar. He's a bad father. Given Kate's reaction to who my mother was, I didn't dare tell her the rest of the story. Hence, I went with the answer I normally gave when asked about Superman. "He's tall."

"And?"

"And a jerk," I confirmed.

"Tell me something. Is he as conceited privately as he seems publicly?"

"More so," I said without hesitation.

"I knew it." She looked up at me, wide eyed. "I never thought I would meet anyone who felt even remotely similar to what I feel towards Superman."

"Me neither."

She stepped close to me, her hands resting on my shirtfront. "You really aren't like any other guy I've ever met, Jason."

I put my hands on her waist. "Well, I would hope that your… um… attraction… to me… has more to it than the fact that I don't care for Superman."

She giggled and buried her head against my shoulder. I shuddered at the very nearness of her body against mine.

"I was attracted to you from the first glance," she said, tilting her head up to look at me.

"Me, too," I said, daring to wrap my arms around her waist and hold her against me more snugly. "I couldn't stop thinking about the beautiful blonde at the pizza place."

"For me it was that tall, dark, and handsome guy who rescued me from my hideous date last week." Her hands slid around my neck. "Who needs Superman when you're around?"

I frowned. "Can we please not talk about him?"

"No problem."

Her face was so very close to mine.

"I'd rather not talk at all," I said, touching my nose to hers, inhaling her heavenly scent.

"My thoughts exactly," she breathed, her eyes falling shut.

Gently, I slid my lips over hers in a slow, deep kiss. She tasted so sweet, and I couldn't help but deepen the kiss so that I could taste her fully. Her lips were soft and her breath was warm and her body felt so perfect pressed up against mine. I felt her smile against my mouth, which only made me smile in return.

"This could become very addicting, you know that?" she mumbled through a kiss.

"What?" I asked, kissing her again.

"Kissing you."

I kissed her again. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I just don't normally kiss on the first date."

I leaned back to look at her. "Hey, you're the one who kissed me first, and I thought this was a second date."

"I did, and it is." She ran her fingers through my hair, making me shiver in delight. "I'm just saying that you caught me. I'm hooked."

I reached up and stroked her cheek with my hand. She was so delicate, so soft. How was this even possible that I'd gotten so lucky? Things like this didn't happen to me. And yet here I was, standing in the middle of the commons with my arms wrapped around the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, kissing her and falling head over heels for her. More than that, she was feeling this, too. I knew from the way her heart raced and the way her body relaxed against mine. I knew it meant I would have to keep the truth from her, and I hated that, but I wasn't willing to give her up. By her own admission, she was hooked. Even though I'd never believed in such things, it was fate that brought us to this moment. Who was I to fight against it?

"I feel the same way," I said, and I proved it with another kiss.

AN #2: I tried to go back and tweak this so that Jason wasn't drawn to her at first for simply physical reasons. I wanted him to like her for something other than the fact that she was pretty. So I mentioned it to my husband - since he's the only guy I could really talk about this with and he wouldn't think I'm nuts! LOL! This was our conversation:

"I want him to like her for something other than just being pretty."
"He just sees her, right?"
"Right."
"And how old is he?"
"Nineteen."
Smirk... "He likes her because she's pretty."

And since I'm on the subject of my husband, before I get reviews challenging the nature of how fast this all happened between Jason and Kate, I knew within a week of meeting my husband that I would marry him. Sometimes, you just know. I gave that to Jason and Kate.